Chapter 19
Psychotic pleasure
I wake up and struggle to open my eyes from the profound tiredness. I try to stretch, but I can’t as my hands and feet are tied on either side of my body.
The panic starts to come all over me. I open my eyes, trembling, and look around. I am in the same place I was last night, halfway covered by the dark duvet. I feel naked. I take a closer look at my body and gulp.
I am naked. Only my bra and lingerie protect me.
I try to move, but the moment I hear a voice that makes my brain scream, I freeze. My whole body turns to stone and doesn’t wanna cooperate with me anymore.
“Hello to you, too, Anmara. Did you sleep well?” Marshall talks while putting a sandwich and a coffee cup on the nightstand.
My eyes are about to pop out of my head when I am looking at him, but I’m not capable of moving to free myself, however much I would’ve moved my hands and feet. I am already feeling the fucking tears at the bottom of my eyes.
That’s just great.
“Oh, but don’t you cry, baby,” he says and comes closer to the bed.
When one of his hands comes closer to me, I try to get far from it, but I only manage to turn my head to the side until he grabs my jaw and makes me look at him.
“Leave me the fuck alone!” I spit in his direction.
Literally.
That only makes him tighten his grip, almost crushing my jaw, making me groan with pain.
“This is the way you welcome your future husband, dear? I gave you everything you wanted, I satisfied your deepest desires, and this is how you treat me?” He growls, frowning deeper than he ever did, almost breaking a vein from his forehead.
When he sees that I don’t want to respond and I keep frowning at him, he pushes my head and gets up, going to his closet.
“Well, I wanted to give you pleasure. I didn’t want it to come to this with you, but you didn’t give me a choice,” he says and comes back with a syringe in his hand.
I start to fuss more while I am staring at the long, thick needle from the end of the syringe.
“Don’t kill me, please,” I say while the fear surrounds me more and more with every step he takes towards me.
The expression on his face accentuates the sensation even more, with how much fury I can read.
“Oh, but this,” he says, pointing at the object in his other hand, “won’t kill you. It will just let me play with you the way I want if you won’t let me.”
As if it should excite me more than death. I prefer the latter to having to resist whatever the psychopath in front of me wants to put me through.
I don’t want to give him satisfaction, so I start struggling to loosen the ropes around my wrists. This only makes him angrier. He pushes the duvet aside and grabs my calf. He sticks the syringe there, getting a painful scream from me.
An odd sensation starts to dominate me. I can’t feel anything. I’m not in control of my own body, and I can’t speak anymore. I can only move my eyes.
“Perfect. That’s better,” Marshall says while grinning.
His expression is scaring me even more, and I can feel my body sweating everywhere because of it. He gets over me and unties my hands and legs.
It frustrates me so much that I can’t move my leg to kick him in his fucking face. My mind struggles, but my body doesn’t wanna do any of the movements my brain cells are sending.
He picks me up from the bed like a potato sack and puts me on the armchair in the room. He traps my head in some device that I don’t see and can’t describe. I’m just feeling my head straight, but not where he is touching me.
He gets away from me, and I see how he quickly undresses, remaining completely naked, with nothing to cover his body.
Before, the image of him without a piece of clothing made my blood run faster through my veins, bringing wetness down there with it. But now, the only wetness is the one on my cheeks, and I want to squeeze together the legs he spreads up and puts on each arm of the couch.
“You’re gorgeous when you submit to me, baby,” he growls, going back to the closet. “But it will be even more beautiful to hear you scream my name while I slowly kill you," he says, coming back with another syringe in one hand and a short, but extremely sharp blade in the other.
You said you wouldn’t kill me, you son of a bitch!
I want to scream in his face. My brain doesn’t manage to analyse what is about to happen. He comes at me at a fast pace and gets his blade too close to my belly. He cuts me slowly, blood drops coming out of me and dripping slowly on my underwear.
But I can’t feel anything. Just as I am slowly losing my fucking mind!
“Perfect," he says while he’s licking his lips and looking at me with an expression that frightens me.
From all the existing feelings, I am seeing the satisfaction in his gloomy eyes while he is staring at the blood that is leaking from me.
He lets the objects drop and undresses my lingerie, which he crumples and brings closer to his nose, inhaling profoundly.
“Ahhh, your complete aroma,” he moans through the underwear, and I am starting to get really sick. “Only for me.”
It confuses me when he dresses me back in my underwear, but my eyes are about to pop when he pushes it aside and penetrates me with his cock.
I instantly wake up and sit upright.
It was just a dream.
Fucking dream. It felt real as hell. That sting, that penetration…
I push the duvet from over me and exhale, relaxing when I see my calf clean and no trace of blood on my body.
I look around, still breathing heavily, but much calmer when I notice that everything is where it’s supposed to be. Only the soft rays of the sun make their presence felt through the window in the room, surrounding the space in a diffuse, mysterious light.
I melt when I turn my gaze to Lucas and see him on his stomach, covered by the duvet just above his beautiful posterior.
He is sleeping with a frown on his face I just want to remove and get into his arms. Last night, he was so supportive while we were reading together from Marshall’s journal, and I just want to thank him with a big, warm hug.
The dream I just had was probably because of those gloomy pages. The descriptions were so detailed, and they penetrated so far into my brain that my mind achieved in creating the most idiotic dream I’ve ever had, perfectly lined up with his notes and the bloody pictures.
I don’t even remember when I fell asleep, if I’m being honest. I remember shivering while reading.
Lucas must have probably helped me get the sleep I desperately needed to face the monsters from all around us.
They are getting way too many, and I don’t like that at all.
Especially since I know they won’t be the only ones, and also because of whatever Cathal has planned for Lucas.
I look at the ring that is wrapped around my finger, at the big and bright stone, making me want to cut my whole finger. I know it’s a bit too extreme, so I won’t do that. But what I do is snatch it from my finger and put it on my bedside table.
I will handle it later.
I turn to Lucas when I feel him getting tense, and I see how he strangles the pillow in his fist and how he starts to sweat. I ask myself if he has the same kind of dream I had, considering the horrible reading from the other night. The darkest lecture from my life…
I discovered how to combine work with pleasure and get a satisfying feeling.
Seeing the blood flowing on their bodies is almost… adorable. I would love to feel it more every day. Maybe even with Anmara, but I do what I can with these gorgeous girls to release myself from the tension I was feeling when I couldn’t stab her, too.
Something just stopped me every single time.
Probably the image I wanted to keep to not end up imprisoned, and also the special air around her.
I want to continue my work. I want it to be the best version possible. The lost soul in front of me is proof that I need to try to make my love drug in a perfect final version, which will work long-term as I want.
My project needs to be a success. It has to be perfect.
Until then, I am content with the satisfying feeling that the image in front of my eyes gave me, and moan abundantly when my hand helps me finish next to the lifeless body.
I am frustrated that I don’t feel more than a grotesque pleasure, but I settle for it.
I think that paragraph from the journal darkened my dreams. It was the one I stopped at. It made me freeze, and that short-circuited my brain.
A growl distracts me, and I look again at Lucas, who has a bigger frown on his forehead and his fist clenched tighter against the pillow.
This time, I put a hand on his fist, making him open his eyes. He exhales with ease when he meets my gaze. He loosens his grip and takes my hand into his.
“You slept as badly as I did. I can see it all over your face,” he says with a hoarse and extremely sexy voice that makes me gulp.
His eyes go for a second to the hand I am leaning on the bed with, and he raises an eyebrow at the same time as the corners of his lips lift, then he moves his gaze back to mine.
“So I was right," he says.
His lips touch mine like a beast in a hungry kiss. I answer without thinking, and he growls through my lips. He takes me into his arms and lets me lie on my back. He gets my hands and puts them on each side of my body, making me weasel out of the kiss, scared because of my recent dream.
I see in his emeralds a touch of confusion, which is soon replaced by understanding when he remembers the pages from the journal.
He releases my hands and puts his palms on my cheeks while looking deep into my eyes.
“You know that I would never hurt you, don’t you?”
“I know,” I answer him quickly and sincerely.
I’m feeling deep inside my body that he wouldn’t hurt me in that atrocious way, however much he darkened my heart in the past, and however many lives were lost through his hands.
In these moments, knowing the drug that is circulating in the world too close to us, I have every right to be skeptical of everything.